


Snapped

by turntechnologic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Sibling Incest, age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2628050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turntechnologic/pseuds/turntechnologic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://turntechnologic.tumblr.com/post/102812611248">this picture</a></p><p>Dave has no idea what he does to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snapped

**Author's Note:**

> Threw this together in half an hour :']

Dave has no idea what he does to you. 

He hasn’t got a clue how painful it is to watch him walk across a room. He doesn’t understand what thoughts cross through your mind as you watch him lick a spoon of ice cream clean. He doesn’t know how hard it is to see him spread himself out on the futon and kick his socked toes idly to the beat of some trash reality tv show. 

What he does get is how much he likes to know you’re under his thumb. 

“Bro?” He asks, calling from his room as he fiddles on his phone, texting some friend you don’t know in some city you haven’t heard of. You know he sends them pictures- you’ve seen him posing. He let you catch a glimpse every now and then. And now, every time your own phone vibrates, you feel your chest tighten up as you try to calculate what chance you had that he screwed up, purposefully, that he sent something to you. 

You like to think that maybe, some day in the future, he’ll return the camera he’d stolen to take them with, memory stuffed to bursting with the same images that you tried to replicate in your mind every night as he took them. 

“Yeah?” You reply, cramming sick and vile thoughts into your stomach as you look up in his direction. He had kept the door to his room open, and you can see his hand, draped across the foot of the bed as he sits with his feet up against the wall, staring at the ceiling as he waits for you to come and entertain him. “What do you want?” 

“Just c’mere.”

My god. He isn’t even trying. And, what’s worse, you know you aren’t, either. Maybe something other than some pornographic pictures will be snapping tonight, because as you stand up off the futon and pace over to his door, there is no way you can honestly believe your sanity is still in one piece. 

Dave rolls over onto his side as you enter his room. At first, you hardly spare him a glance. The place is a mess, coated in thin layers of dust and dirty clothes, wires, empty chip bags and soda cans. Wrinkling your nose, you finally let your eyes travel up to the bed where Dave awaits, and your breath leaves your chest in one smooth blow when you finally notice the smooth pale, delicious and unmarked skin of his legs. 

_He’s just thirteen_. You remind yourself, horrified. Apparently this means nothing, though, as your eyes drag up his legs, ankles to hips as you admire the tight red hug his briefs are giving his ass. 

Dave’s triumphant grin is the only thing that can distract you, now, and when he shifts once more to prop himself up on his elbows and dangle his legs off the side of the bed, you like to think you hate him. 

Maybe he does know what he’s doing. 

“Got something of yours.” He says as he reaches across the bed to his mess of pillows. The thin, black strap you’d secured onto your camera all those weeks ago reveals itself from behind the plush mountain, and soon enough the rest of the camera is also within sight. “I meant to give it back sooner, but one thing led to another and I hung onto it for a while. It’s a great camera, definitely works well in low lighting.” 

Dave drops it to the bed beside him and stretches his arms up over his head, falling back against the sheets and revealing a sweet looking stretch of skin above his hips and beneath the hem of his shirt. Your eyes flick across it and then travel lower, and the sheer terror of what you are doing spurs you into action. 

“I’ll just be taking it, then.” You say as you step forward, reaching out for the camera. Dave nods his head and looks up at you, and maybe it’s the spell he’s put you under, but you aren’t fast enough to pull your hand away before he has it trapped in one of his own. 

“Why don’t you stay a while, Bro?” He purrs as he drags you down against him. Heat surges through your bloodstream and your skin burns wherever the two of you are touching, which is a funny thought considering how frozen you suddenly are. Dave doesn’t seem to mind, though, and he tucks his legs around your own and takes a healthy fistful of your shirt on either side. 

“Come on, Bro, I know you wanna.” He says, right up by your ear as he winds his legs tighter around you. He rocks his hips up against yours, delighting in the shiver it pulls out of your spine, and he tucks his face into the space between your left shoulder and neck. “I dare you.” 

Your fists are tight in the sheets on either side of him. Dave presses his chest up against yours and his shades clink awkwardly against your own. He lets out the softest, sweetest groan when his hips grind harder against yours, and you can feel yourself tensing above him, close to breaking, close to giving in, close to snapping. “Dare you…” 

Your heart stutters and one of your hands moves on it’s own, sliding down his side, to his hip, under the hem of his underwear as the other, smarter hand grounds you in his sheets firmly. 

“Double dare you.” He sings, lips light against your neck, fingers tight in your shirt, legs firm around your own. It’d be so easy to press him down into the mattress, to pick him up and slam him against the wall, to slide a hand down and grope his ass, tear through these thin, damn briefs. 

Instead, you wrench yourself back, face flushed and chest heaving. You give yourself one moment to regret losing the burning heat against your own chest before snatching the camera and fleeing his room to the relative safety of the futon. 

Behind you, Dave laughs a little and stretches back out over the bed. He won’t try anything else tonight, and you relax into the futon to wipe the sweat off your brow. The camera lens stares into your soul beside you, and you pick it up and fling it into a pile of smuppets across the room. 

Somewhere along the line, you’ve really fucked up. There isn’t any other way to put it, but you know you’re unwilling to fix it when, later that night, you retrieve the camera with your lower lip between your teeth, and you let out a soft breath when a little flashing note on the screen warns you that the memory was 100% full. 

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://www.turntechnologic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
